Archive for the ‘release feature’ Category



When Dr. Alex Murdock is demoted to a university in rural Virginia, the last thing he expects to find is a future. But country charm never looked as good as it did on Rainey Mitchell.

Rainey Mitchell does not need a high-class flirt in her wounded world, but trouble and temptation wafts off the new professor as strong as his sandalwood-scented cologne.

When circumstances thrust them together to save her tutoring clinic, can the troublemaker find the hero inside and encourage the reticent Rainey to open her heart again?


She growled and slowed her run, glancing back the way she’d come. Oh no!

Alex was headed directly toward Old Man Spencer’s and the ferocious pack of dogs. She hesitated, a little fight-or-flight mamba dancing through her mind, then sprinted up the hill.

“Alex,” she called to him, but he didn’t turn. Against the burn in her legs, she pushed harder up the hill toward him.

Misty morning woods framed the road on both sides, and Rainey’s attention honed in on her target. He had a nice stride in his run, solid and smooth, accentuating the tight shape of his backside in those sweats.

Oh, for heaven’s sake! She groaned at her own mental plummet, and the image loosened in her mind. “Alex.”

He turned his head, plucking one of his earbuds out as he slowed. “Miss me?”

“I’m being neighborly.” She jogged to him, the two of them moving in place. “A pack of unfriendly dogs live at the top of the hill, so unless you want to get a rough country greeting, you’ll turn at the top of the hill and head back down.”

“You warned me? I figured you’d rather feed me to the dogs.”

Rainey opened her mouth to respond and then snapped her lips closed, the uneasy flicker of shame flaming to life in the warmth on her face. She tugged both of her earbuds out and worked up a smile, maybe. It didn’t feel very friendly. “No one deserves that kind of fate.”

“Wow, must be pretty bad.”

“Midas is the worst. He’s a boxer with jaws the size of … of…”

“Jaws?” His lips tilted with his stupid grin, and hers twitched in response.

“Something like that.” She shook her head. “Anyway, just thought you ought to know.” She turned back toward the hill, and within seconds he was beside her, his smile beaming too brightly for  anyone pre-coffee.

“So … you run?” He fell in stride beside her.

Every fiber of her being wanted to bathe him with her most obvious ‘duh’ look, but her devotions from the morning pricked at her annoyance like a seven-year-old with a scab. “I started in college. Mornings are my favorite time.”

Oh great, why did she admit that to him?

“Mine too. You can watch the world wake up.”

She turned to look for a sarcastic expression but found none. Why did she get the weirdest vibes around him? Half the time she wanted to slap the smile off his face, and the other half left her wondering if something much … more was going on behind those seafoam-colored eyes.


rem:  Hullo Pepper and congratulations on your newest book baby! If you could live in the era and setting of any one of your books (past, present, or future) which one would it be and why?

PEPPER:   Well, I really love England so the Derbyshire countryside would be super. I also love history, particularly the Edwardian era, but I’d only want to live in that era if I could be in the upper class 😉

rem:   I think I’m with you on that one! Where did you find this story idea?

PEPPER:   While writing A Twist of Faith something about Alex Murdock pinched at my heart. I started asking questions about why he acted the way he was and…well, this story came to life.

rem:   Ya, something about Dr. Alex pricked my heart too… Who was the easiest character to write and why? The most difficult?

PEPPER:   Actually, this book was full of characters who were just FUN to write. Alex was probably the easiest. Once I figured out his personality, his quips would just jump onto the page and surprise me. Sarah was also really easy (and fun) to write. I guess Rainey might have been the most difficult, but I feel like I’ve known her for two books now, so that helped in writing her.

rem:   Don’tcha just love it when they do that? Jump onto the page like that? What do you munch on while you’re writing / researching / editing?

PEPPER:   I NEED to munch on something healthy and sometimes I will munch on Veggie Straws. I usually have some sort of tea along with me, but my love is chocolate. Especially kisses and hugs chocolate 😊 (Maybe they inspire me)

rem:   Well, yeah, ya gotta have the chocolate!! #kissykissy  #huggyhuggy What do you do to recover once you’ve typed “THE END?”

PEPPER:   I usually take a writing break for a week or two. Distance myself from the story and little before going through it again. And I usually bake something I love in celebration 😊

rem:  Baking is good! Distance, too, so the new peeps can percolate, right??  Thanks so much for being part of my blog today, Pepper!

Pepper Basham is an award-winning author who writes romance peppered with grace and humor. She currently resides in the lovely mountains of Asheville, NC where she is the mom of 5 great kids, speech-pathologist to about fifty more, lover of chocolate, jazz, and Jesus. Her debut historical novel, The Thorn Bearer, released in May 2015 and has garnered awards such as Reader’s Favorites Award, finalist in the Grace Awards, shortlisted for the Inspy Awards, and a finalist in ACFW’s Carol Awards. Her second historical novel, The Thorn Keeper, released in Feb 2016 and her first contemporary romance, A Twist of Faith, released in April 2016 with a 4 star review from Romantic Times. In December 2016, her third historical in the Penned in Time series, The Thorn Healer – released with a 4 1/2 star review from RT and a Top Picks rating. You can get to know Pepper on her website, http://www.pepperdbasham.com, on Facebook, or over at her group blog, The Writer’s Alley.







They fit together, not quite like biscuits and gravy, but a solid shrimp and grits.



Ms. Basham has done it again! Sweet and swoony, Charming the Troublemaker will tickle your funny bone and warm the cockles of your heart.


Rainey Mitchell fell hard—and was betrayed, leaving deep wounds and deeper scars. Now she’s  raising a five year old as a single mom, and romance is the last thing on her mind. Especially if it involves the arrogant and pretentious Dr. Alex Murdock.

Alex Murdock is hiding his own deep wounds and scars. And hides behind a mask of humor and arrogance.

Then they’re forced to work together. As Rainey and Alex spend more time in one another’s company, they begin to let their own guard down to discover truth of the person behind the mask.


The Queen of Swoony doesn’t disappoint with her newest release. The emotions are real, and the heart both warns and shies away—and plunges deep into the danger zone. As each layer of Alex’s shell fell away, this reviewer sympathized with him more and deeper. I fought with him as he struggled to find a true sense of worth, and rejoiced as that began to break through. I felt Rainey’s hurt and distrust as it began to dissipate, and I swooned my own self as love rushed in and enveloped her.

Ms. Basham knows her characters well, and portrays them and their personal fears and angst most realistically. Her prose is elegant and her dialogue crisp and sparkling, with scenarios that leap off the page, after page after page.



I received a free copy of this book, but was under no obligation to read the book or to post a review. I offer my review of my own free will. The opinions expressed in my review are my honest thoughts and reaction to this book.



#Blogwords, Tuesday Reviews-Day, #TRD, New Release Event, Charming the Troublemaker, Pepper Basham, Mitchell’s Crossing, A Twist of Faith


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What if you could sell your sorrow?
During the middle ages, a mother mourning the death of her child believed she could “sell her sorrow” by selling a nail from her child’s coffin to a traveling peddler.
Lady Celeste is overwhelmed with grief when her infant son dies. Desperate to find relief, she escapes the convent where her husband has sent her to recover and begs a passing peddler to buy her sorrow. Jean, the cynical peddler she meets, is nobody’s fool; he does not believe in superstitions and insists Celeste include the valuable ruby ring on her finger along with the nail in return for his coin.
When Celeste learns that without her wedding ring her husband may set her aside, she determines to retrieve it—without reclaiming her sorrow. But how will she find the peddler and convince him to give up the precious ruby ring?


The thud of stones meeting flesh filled his ears. He felt, in his own body, the hot, burning pain as each one hit, tearing the thin fabric of her shift, digging into her bruised and bleeding flesh. It should be him there, not her. He could not move, speak, breathe…

Something shoved up against his leg. His breath emerged in a gasp.


A girl of five or six squeezed past him. She pushed her way through the crowd till she reached the front, crying all the while, “Mama! Mama!”

The woman’s face was hidden, covered by her hair. The air was thick with stones. Again and again they struck her, but still she did not cry out.

“Mama!” the child screamed again.

The woman looked up.

“Mama!” She sprinted across the open ground. A stone whizzed past her ear. A second hit her back, flinging her to the ground.

The woman cried out then, a wild, animal shriek. It echoed, hideous and compelling, across the square.

She would be killed! The horror of it swept over Jean as he stared at the fallen child. No! He could not bear that! He shoved his way through the crowd, unable to look away from the woman, unable to escape the terror in her eyes as she strained against her bonds, struggling to reach the child sprawled on the ground. She shrieked again, a high, keening noise. Jean gritted his teeth to keep from screaming with her.

At the edge of the crowd he stopped. What was he doing? What in the name of Heaven had come over him?

Then the child moaned and the woman screamed again and Jean ran forward, unable to stop himself. The little girl tried to roll over as Jean reached her. He was no longer looking at the woman, but he felt her strain toward him as he bent down and scooped up the child.

A stone struck the side of his head as he straightened. He staggered, almost dropping the child. He regained his footing and turned to race back to the safety of the crowd.

“The adulterer!” a man cried.

Other voices took up the cry. He stepped forward, but the gap in the crowd where he had pushed through to get to the child had closed against him. A second stone hit his arm. There could be no mistaking that this one was meant for him. He saw the metal smith among the crowd, his arm drawn back, aiming. As Jean watched, he flung his stone.

It hit Jean’s shoulder with a stinging blow that took his breath away. He crouched over the child, holding her tightly to him, more aware of the woman’s anguished cries behind him and the child’s terror than his own pain. Two more stones came flying at him; one missed its mark but the other hit the child’s leg. She screamed and twisted, trying to burrow into him. A third stone hit her cheek, drawing blood. He wrapped both arms around her, leaving his own head exposed as he searched for an opening in the crowd.



rem:   Hullo Jane Ann, and congratulations on your new story! If you could live anywhere in any time period, where would you go?

JANE ANN:  If we’re talking “live”, I’d stay right here. I think we have it pretty good right now in Canada, and besides, all the people I love are here. I write very realistic, researched historical fiction of the Middle Ages. No one who is used to 21st Century comfort, health care, and hygiene would want to live there. But I wouldn’t mind a short visit to any number of eras.

rem:   Yes, you DO write very realistic and authentic fiction! And I’m with you, I’ll go visit most anywhere, any time, but wouldn’t want to live there! Where did you find this story idea?

JANE ANN:   I first heard the folk lore it’s based on at a lecture given by a midwife about pregnancy and childbirth in the Middle Ages. I knew I wanted to write about it right away. But it took years of research before the story emerged.

rem:   Again, yes, the depth of authenticity in your story doesn’t come quick—or easy or cheap! And your writing shines for it. Who was the easiest character to write and why? The most difficult?

JANE ANN: Gilles. He’s a minor character who doesn’t show up until the end but when I started writing from his POV, the chapter just leaped off the page with life.

Celeste was the most difficult because when she sells her sorrow, she loses her memories (if she remembered she’d be sad all over again) and she loses her ability to feel emotions. It was very hard to write an unfeeling (literally) character and still make her sympathetic. She wants both back, but at the same time she doesn’t want them back, because her grief for her son was crippling. She’s a very complicated character, and it took a lot of rewrites to get her right.

rem:   And you pulled it off, too, Jane Ann. I ached for her. Well, I wanted to flog her for running, too, but totally understand why she felt the way she did. What do you munch on while you’re writing / researching / editing?

JANE ANN: I chew gum. If I’m out of gum (and I try not to be) I chew my fingernails. When I have no more fingernails, I chew on a pencil. Once I chewed on a pen but I got a mouthful of ink. You can see why I try to never be out of gum.

rem:   Note to self: send Jane Ann some chewing gum… What do you do to recover once you’ve typed “THE END?”

JANE ANN:  I sew a quilt. Or go to a movie. Or read a book. But designing a quilt is best because it satisfies my urge to create something without requiring the mental focus of writing a novel.

rem:   No kidding re the mental focus! I’d love to see some of your quilts sometime! What a lovely outlet for your creativity. Jane Ann, congratulations again, and thank you for taking time to visit with me on the blog today.


  1. A. McLachlan was born in Toronto, Canada. She is the author of a short story collection, CONNECTIONS, published by Pandora Press and two College textbooks on Professional Ethics, published by Pearson-Prentice Hall. She has been reading literary fiction, science fiction and historical fiction in equal measure all her life. Walls of Wind was her first published Science Fiction novel. She has two young adult science fiction novels, The Occasional Diamond Thief and The Salarian Desert Game, published by EDGE Publishing. And her first historical fiction, The Sorrow Stone, set in the 12th Century, is now available. She is represented by Carrie Pestritto at Prospect Agency.





  • At first he did not know it was a human being. She lay crumpled on the ground like a bundle of dirty rags tossed aside by some trader.
  • She held out her closed left hand. “Buy it! For the love of God, buy my sorrow before I go insane!” Slowly she opened her fingers. A long black nail, slightly bent near the flattened head, lay across her small white palm.
  • “I cannot remember,” she said. She had had this problem yesterday, but she had been certain a night of sleep would resolve it.
  • Celeste’s eyes widened. She covered her mouth with her hand to prevent herself crying out. Was it true? She remembered the ring, the physical weight of it on her finger, knew it to be her husband’s marriage token. But she could not remember receiving it. She knew her husband’s name but could not visualize his face. He was like a silvered image in her mind, flat and cold, without any distinguishing features.
  • Jean’s wife, Mathilde, had sewed a dozen silk handkerchiefs and embroidered crosses on them. They could sell profitably in their own right, but Jean tripled their value by claiming that they had been blessed at the Saint’s shrine in Santiago.
  • She must confront the peddler alone when she found him. If Lord Bernard learned she had willingly given away her marriage ring, it would not matter that she had later retrieved it.
  • “Lady Celeste? Do you believe God did not hear you?” Celeste looked up, shaken. Father Jacques was watching her, waiting for her answer.
  • The door opens slowly, the quiet scrape of its movement ominous in the darkness. Her feet are frozen to the cold stone floor; she cannot even raise her hand to cover her face, although she cannot bear to see inside the room. The door is fully open now; she cannot breathe, her terror is so great. How small it is, so small it makes her ache. It only covers half the bench it rests on.  She steps through the doorway, stretching her hand toward the little wooden casket—
  • The donkey woke him, braying and surging to its feet. Jean was up almost as quickly, straining to see in the darkness.  Several murky shadows crept between the trees, slightly darker than the surrounding gloom. He swung his staff up as the first one came at him, and heard a satisfying CRACK!
  • Her memory was sparse and fragmented, like a length of cloth after the dress pieces have been cut away from it.
  • It was one thing not to care for people; quite another not to care for God.
  • They passed their sorrow onto others, the nobility. They shed suffering as a snake sheds its skin.


  1. To get the setting and period right in The Sorrow Stone, I flew to France and travelled the entire route Jean and Celeste take, including the Cluny Monastery. I drove local guides and historians crazy asking “Was this castle/monastery/building here in the 12th Century? What trades were practiced here then? What was the climate and vegetation like here in the 12th Century?”
  2. When I first heard the folk superstition about selling your sorrow, I was writing speculative fiction at the time, so I tried using the idea in a story, and it totally failed. A publisher, who liked the concept also, asked me, “Why don’t you just write it in the Middle Ages, where it came from?” (Duh, right?) It took years of research to do that, but I’m glad I did. (rem: me too!) Meanwhile, I changed the original story, got rid of all references to sorrow, rewrote it and found a publisher for it. Can you guess which of my novels it is?
  3. After I wrote Gilles’ chapters, I realized I really liked writing young adults, so I wrote three more novels with young adult protagonists. I still find teens the most fun age to write about.
  4. After reading The Sorrow Stone, a reader told me “You do tortured souls really well.” I don’t know if that’s a compliment or a personality flaw, but I realized that I have always been drawn to complex, conflicted characters and the authors who portray them. Here’s my list: The Idiot by Dostoyevski, The Chosen by Chaim Potok, Hamlet and King Lear by Shakespeare, Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad, The Gold Finch, The Hunger Games… I just realized this list could go on for ten pages.
  5. I once read every novel in my seven preferred genres at the local library, and had to find something else to do till they got more in.
  6. My seven preferred genres (not in any order) are: science fiction, historical fiction, literary fiction, contemporary fiction, women’s fiction, fantasy, young adult/coming of age fiction.
  7. I started out writing poetry, and had several of my poems published in anthologies while I was in university.
  8. I once wrote a story which my older sister accused me of plagiarizing from a picture book from the library. I was, like, 8 years old. It was unintentional, but true. I was so mortified at being accused of “cheating” that I quit writing prose altogether. Then, in grad school, I realized that ALL Shakespeare’s dramas and historicals were re-tellings of popular tales or histories. It’s not the tale but how you spin it that makes it original.
  9. Every author has favorites from among their novels. For me, it’s a tie between The Sorrow Stone and Walls of Wind. I’m not sure I’ll ever love another story of mine as much as I love those two.
  10. I love teaching and speaking, no matter the size of the audience. But there was a time I was so nervous about it, a friend asked me whether she should warn my audience to wear raincoats. It wasn’t my voice I was afraid of projecting.


Sorrow is a dark companion, a tormenting thing, driving us sometimes to madness.


Churning thoughts and vague memories torment Lady Celeste, pushing her to madness in her grief. Selling her sorrow, though, does not bring the relief she so desperately seeks.


The peddler, Jean, has no scruples and doesn’t believe the superstition. But his fate seems inexplicably tangled with the Lady whose sorrow he bought—and whose ring he helped himself to.


The conflict and agony that drives Lady Celeste is dark and frightening, and very real. The sense of dread—and guilt—that plagues her drives her away from the very place she would be safest. I longed for her memory to surface, no matter how horrible the thing she hid from herself. I longed for the peace of knowing, and accepting, what could not be changed. I fought with her against shadowed memories, and fought with her to cling to the sweet ones.


I wanted to throttle the peddler, while feeling an element of sympathy for him, for the life he lived, cruel and crude and harsh. I longed for his peace as much as for Lady Celeste.



Ms. McLachlan’s storytelling is impeccable, her details and knowledge of life in 12th century France evident on every page. The terminology and vernacular put the reader right on the road with the peddler, or in the abbey with Lady Celeste. The sights and sounds—and smells—come alive as the characters move through their paces. And the story, so tightly woven, compels the reader to keep turning the page.

Both main characters have their storyline, and Ms. McLachlan has interwoven them skillfully into one intricate story, bringing it to a gripping climax and fitting resolution.




I received a free copy of this book, but was under no obligation to read the book or to post a review. I offer my review of my own free will. The opinions expressed in my review are my honest thoughts and reaction to this book.



#Blogwords, Tuesday Reviews-Day, #TRD, New Release Event, The Sorrow Stone, J.A. McLachlan

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“Vivi had draped herself across the chaise longue, her lacy coverlet laid loosely about her. I wondered had Edna had done this before she left. I stirred and tried to sit, but found myself quite weak, my head yet swimming. I had rustled the covers, though, and the whispered sound apparently woke Vivienne for she sat up just then.”


“Vivienne was nothing but kind and gracious, and served me quite flawlessly. Grier made biscuits, especially for me, Vivi told me. There was ham and scrambled eggs and fresh peaches and cream. There was fresh churned butter and honey from the beehive for the biscuits. And glorious coffee.”


rem:  Bonjour, Madame, bienvenue. It’s lovely to chat with you today.

VIVIENNE:  Bonjour, Robin. I believe it totally fitting for you to address me by my given name. You did give it to me, after all.

rem:  You grew up on Saisons Plantation. Tell us what that was like.

VIVIENNE:  Oh my goodness. I was born the year after the war started. My first memory is Papá announcing freedom to all the Negroes. He gathered us all under the great oak tree—the one with the swing now—and told them that any who wished were free to go.

rem:  What a poignant moment.

VIVIENNE:  Oh, it was indeed.

rem:  What a tremendous thing your father did. I’m sure they were grateful for their freedom.

VIVIENNE:  smiles They were, Robin. But none of them left Saisons. They all stayed with us and were paid servants instead.

rem:  I recall how benevolent your papá was.

VIVIENNE:  He was kind to all.

rem:  You and your husband run the plantation now, correct?

VIVIENNE:  Henry has a passion for the tea and rice.

rem:  You have a special blend of tea. How did that come about?

VIVIENNE:  laughs When Eti and Gérard and I were small, we were playing at making tea, using pecans.

rem:  How inventive you were.

VIVIENNE:  We were small. We used what we could. laughs We also made pies from mud.

rem:  Who’s idea was it to use pecans?

VIVIENNE:  sighs Eti’s. She always was most inventive.

rem:  I understand you and she were close.


rem:  Can you tell me about her.

VIVIENNE:  hesitates, takes deep breath She was a ray of sunshine, a bundle of joy. No one didn’t love her.

rem:  You had the same birthday didn’t you?

VIVIENNE:  smiles Yes. She arrived the day I turned three. Just months before the war ended.

rem:  She followed after you wherever you went.

VIVIENNE:  And mimicked everything I ever did.

rem:  Was that annoying to you?

VIVIENNE:  Mercy, no. I delighted in it.

rem:  pause She died a very tragic death. Can you tell us what happened?

VIVIENNE:  She was pushed. We all knew it. She was in her wheelchair, and fell from the balcony outside her rooms. She couldn’t even stand—she was yet recovering from another fall.

rem:  Also not an accident, correct?

VIVIENNE:  Suzi was so tiny but she saw… She didn’t know who it was, and couldn’t describe very well.

rem:  You knew who it was though, didn’t you?

VIVIENNE:  Yes. We all knew. It was Lissette Fontaine.

rem:  Vivienne, I’m so sorry.

VIVIENNE:  Thank you. Please forgive my temper. After all this time… I forgave the woman, but it still pains me.


rem:  You raised her girls, didn’t you?

VIVIENNE:  loud sigh Yes, I did. They were a delight.

rem:  Where was their papá, Monsieur Rowan?

VIVIENNE:  closes eyes She seduced him. And then ran off—and took our dear Simone.

rem:  Dear Vivienne, you have suffered great loss.

VIVIENNE:  We all did. Violet stopped talking, Suzi became most belligerent. They both had nightmares. pauses We adjusted, though. They are now delightful young women.

rem:  A change for you, I’m sure, after raising three boys.

VIVIENNE:  laughs Most certainly different.

rem:  Vivienne, I thank you for chatting with me today. My condolences on your losses.

VIVIENNE:  I thank you, Robin. And it has been my pleasure.









The pursed expression on Eléanore’s face was most entertaining. Clearly she viewed Violet’s mute tongue as a deficiency, and her ability to communicate using her hands as some sort of sacrilege.

            Violet looked to Vivienne, who signed back to her that all was well, and to dismiss the vieille vache. The old cow.

            Vivienne smiled quite demurely, laughing most gaily with her amber eyes. Violet smiled large and satisfied.”




#Blogwords, Chat Thursday, The Long Shadows of Summer, Seasons Series, Character Interview, Vivienne Hampton, Lissette Fontaine

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“Exactly, Pearl.” Simone tapped her head with her finger. “You are a lady, and the degenerate rake likes ladies.”

If it were not for Scarlett and his treatment of her, I would wonder of his reputation. What I knew of his beloved first wife… Perhaps he grieved so deeply… Something was amiss, I felt it.

“Well Merc surely can’t go. He won’t acknowledge her station.” Pearl turned from the window, rubbing the chill from her arms. “And you can’t go. He thinks you’re dead.” For all her grace and etiquette Pearl sometimes had no tact.

It dawned on us all at the same moment—Simone would be the one to deliver the watch to Fontaine, precisely because he thought her dead—dressed in gray and white with ashes smeared over her face and arms—she would pose as a ghost.

We arranged a time, after Simmie’s 1:00 feeding, and I crept down the stairs. It was a new house so there were no creaky steps. My feet absorbed the plush cushion of the velvety carpet and I slipped on my old work boots on the stoop as raindrops flicked the ground.

Shrouded in a black riding cloak, Simone had donned her costume and followed me out the door. She had spent much time barefoot as a child, and the habit had carried to her adult life. I wondered for a fleeting moment did her time in the village influence her preference.

Tonight she wore no shoes.

Pearl and I both were garbed all in black, my pale hair tightly coiled beneath a black wrap. No hats, only our dresses and cloaks, both against the damp chill and to veil our presence.

Without le bébé inside me, I moved as lithely as Simone. Pearl was light on her feet, but not in the dark and not along the bank of the canal. Tonight would not be the time for her to repeat her episode and fall into the muddy water.

Pearl had sent a message to Scarlett with instruction that it be delivered directly into her hand. If Scarlett was unavailable, Tierney was to read it. Tierney was fond of Pearl and would do whatever she required, no questions asked.

The door was not only unlocked, but stood open. Not a single light flickered, and no shadows evidenced themselves; it was utter darkness. Pearl and I slipped our shoes off and tucked them in a bin by the door.

I led the way by virtue of my former status and therefore, my familiarity with the stairs and passageways as they turned and twisted. As a younger woman, I had visited with Abigail and Harley. Abby and I were dear friends still.

The stairs and hallways were something out of a medieval tale, veering off, hallways offset, alcoves with stairs that climbed upward but no corresponding steps descending. Fontaine had even specified a tower, six stories high, but the room at the top was unbearable in the summer heat. I remembered tales of someone dying in the heat in that room while locked in.

Also cloaked in black, Scarlett waited in an alcove at the end of the passage. She knew a trick to open the door without making a sound. I cast a chastising glance at her. Of all of us, she was at greatest risk. If Fontaine awoke and saw any of us other than Simone, he would have all our necks, regardless of our station or our wealth, or even that Simone had his precious watch.

I knew from talking to Scarlett that Fontaine slept alone unless he had company in his bed. His pitiful wife was abandoned to her apartments, living as much in solitude as Madame Marchand, though not of her own choosing. I knew also that he drank heavily of his whiskey of an evening till he passed out. We used this knowledge to our advantage.

Scarlett had not been part of our planning but she offered what was at once the greatest proposition and the most dangerous—Simone would ride on her shoulders giving even greater impression of a visiting specter. She carried Simone with ease.

Fontaine had an enormous bed with massive columns at the corners. The ceiling was coffered above, and heavy drapes enclosed the space. Scarlett said they were always tied back; it wasn’t cold enough in South Carolina to ever draw them closed. Pearl and I padded to the sides and loosed the ties, the drapes casting the bed and its drunken occupant in utter dark.

Next we drew the windows open, the chill breeze blustering through. My blood ran cold as Fontaine’s gravelly voice rumbled. We all held still as the statue in the square, and I wondered I didn’t faint away from holding my breath.

He muttered something about Sessy and the fire. My skin crawled.

He gargled and wheezed, then it sounded like a wild beast as he settled into slumbered snoring.

I released my breath and resisted the urge to drop to my knees in prayerful thanks.

We had brought candles, and Pearl and I now lit them, placing them on three tables between the windows, away from drapes and wind so they’d neither be extinguished nor catch the drapes ablaze, but would cast shadows with the movement of the wind. We then slid to the wall at the head of the bed and whispered hushed moans, high and plaintive.

Fontaine mumbled again, calling out for Sessy.

Then he saw her and he shrieked like Pearl had when Simone had killed a cotton mouth one summer when we had been dipping our feet in the canal. I feared his staff might awaken and come to his aid; I didn’t realize they would neither hear him nor care if they did.

He sputtered and muttered, and like the character in the Charles Dicken’s tale, begged the spirit to leave him be.

Simone raised an ash-smeared white hand and pointed at him. I couldn’t see him but imagined him to be trembling, clutching the covers to his chin. I could, however, hear his piteous whimpers and felt a fleeting sense of pity. We had banked on the man’s superstitious nature and his lack of interest in all things godly and I now felt we were taking cruel advantage. I knew because Scarlett had told me, he was deathly afraid of ghosts—and here we were perpetrating our ruse with the very thing he feared most in life.

Pearl and I increased our wailing, and so too, did Fontaine. Simone held her position, her accusing finger seeming to reach right into his soul.

When I thought the man could bear no more—truly when I thought I could bear no more—Simone pulled her hand back inside her cloak and pulled the hood over her face. I was by the windows and extinguished the candles, then dropped them to the ground below. Still moaning soft and low, Pearl and I padded to the end of the bed and released the ties at the end, then we left the room quickly and silently, slamming the door behind us and leaving Fontaine bellowing like a wounded bear.

Scarlett led us to a secret stairway and we made our hasty exit. She had said she would retrieve the candles from the ground. We took no time for friendly affection in parting but knew we’d not risk coming to see Scarlett for several days at least.

“Did you leave it?”

Even in the dark, I knew the expression on Simone’s face. “Of course I left it Pearl.”

“I know you did.” Pearl’s breath was ragged. This was the most daring thing she had done in her pampered life. “I was so scared.”

“We all were, Pearl.” I caught just the movement, and that more of a whisper of sound, but I knew Simone had taken Pearl’s hand in hers.

We walked in silence for some minutes. It was the middle of the night and the darkness was eerie, perhaps spookier because of what we had just done.

I was a woman now of seven and twenty years, a wife and mother. I was no longer the adventuresome adolescent I had once been. I made my decisions based on prayer and deliberation, not whimsy or irrational diversion. What had we just done? What were we thinking?


The southern town of Saisons lies at the crossroads between North and South, progressive and genteel antebellum life. Between East and West, between history and heritage, and new frontiers. Downton Abbey meets Gone With the Wind.


It’s 1912, in a world where slavery is dying and women’s rights are rising, and four young women who once shared a bond—and experienced a tragedy—question their own truths.


Mercedes has always been an avid reader and devours each new Sherlock Holmes mystery as soon as she gets her hands on them. When one of her friends comes to her, Mercedes vows to keep Simone’s secrets and uncover the truth.


But as Mercedes plays detective to her friends’ questions, she discovers something far more shocking—she herself is not who she thought she was.



#Blogwords, Special Edition, The Long Shadows of Summer, Excerpt, Release Feature

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There can be more than comfort in food… 

What could well-known and wealthy Graham Cooper Jr. have in common with a blogger like Sloane Bradley, a woman with secrets she’s kept firmly out of the public eye? That is, besides a love of food. Sloane still can’t believe Cooper’s the chef at the restaurant she’s been assigned to promote. But she’s boiling to prove to him that her “little blog” can put his place on the map. She can also fall head over heels for the guy, who has secrets of his own, it turns out…except for one thing. She can’t get past the post-traumatic stress disorder that keeps her walled up in her home studio.


He’d arranged a bouquet of colored pens in a chunky ceramic mug printed with the Simone logo. Paper clips, Post-it notes and bigger notepads were lined neatly in one corner, arranged by color. A flutter of picture-perfect giddiness set loose in Sloane’s stomach. Bottles of hand sanitizer and antibacterial wipes occupied the other corner.

“It’s not much, but—”

“It’s perfect.”

Their eyes held for less than a second, charged with a rushing revelation for Sloane.

Cooper had been paying attention. And, despite all the weirdness, he got her.


rem:   Hullo Laurie! Congratulations on your new(ish) book! (which I loved by the way!) If you could live anywhere in any time period, where would you go?

LAURIEI rather like right now! If I could transplant my life to Colorado Springs or Seattle seamlessly (and adjust for cost of living), I love those two cities!

rem:   Both beautiful locations! Where did you find this story idea?

LAURIEIt started with the idea to have a food blogger for a main character, one whose life was much different off screen than as portrayed on her website. I’m a huge fan of food bloggers and will fall for a pretty food photo (and run straight to the grocery store to make it). J

rem:   Loved how you wove the aspects of blogging and food prep into the fabric of the story. Who was the easiest character to write and why? The most difficult?

LAURIE: The story started with Sloane, but Cooper ended up taking over. He was the easiest to write, surprisingly. His father was the hardest. I kept trying to make him more of a villain than my chosen genre allowed.

rem:   He was a tough cookie, and you did that well. What do you munch on while you’re writing / researching / editing?

LAURIEWhite cheddar popcorn and an iced unsweet Arnold Palmer (lemonade + unsweet tea) for sure.

rem:   Yummm to the popcorn, not so much to the beverage… What do you do to recover once you’ve typed “THE END?”

LAURIECatch up on all the books and all the sleep and all the vegetable consumption, of course!

rem:   I like the vegetable consumption bit! Congrats again on entering the world of authors! Well done!


Laurie Tomlinson is an award-winning contemporary romance author living in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Her stories are fueled by faith, steaming mugs of tea, and her belief that life should be celebrated with cupcakes and extra sprinkles. When she’s not writing, she enjoys baking with her two little sous chefs and testing new recipes on her husband—especially if she doesn’t have to do the dishes.

Find her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/AuthorLaurieTomlinson or her website, www.laurietomlinson.com.


1 – A stick of Irish butter, cubed into tiny uniform squares. Half-cup portions of white sugar, brown sugar, glittering in the light. And the star of the show, a mixture of chocolate chips and crumbled homemade toffee that was good enough to eat with a spoon. All showcased in sherbet-colored ceramic pinch pots and bowls from the flea market.


2 – His words became more flavored with French as he spoke, as if saturated by the remnant of this woman in his mind.


3 – Cooper recognized the pain in her eyes like he was looking into a mirror. Yes, he was very

familiar with the kind of grief that sneaks up on you. With the dark, smothering bag it throws over your head and the way it pushes you into the back of a moving van.


4 – She scanned the room for Cooper and started when she found him looking directly at her. Whoa. She felt like a dunk-tank seat had plunged her into water.


5 – “À la bonne heure.” Cooper could almost hear the words Simone often told him as she poured tea into his mug. “In good time.” Had his time finally arrived?


6 – But some time while he was in Paris, Marian had become a different person. He’d returned stateside to a full-color version of the woman who’d been living in black-and-white when he left.


7 – This was an unfamiliar intersection—memories of Aaron that made her laugh?


8 – But Sloane was aware. Aware of a strange, comforting feeling that was a night-and-day contrast to the pain. To the numbness. Was this what peace felt like? It’d been so long that it was hard for her to recognize it when it sneaked up on her.


9 – “No, Cooper.” Sloane aimed a razor-sharp glare at him, but her lower lip trembled. “You don’t understand. You can’t even begin to understand.”


10 – …can you be free if you won’t forgive yourself?”


11 – That sacred juncture between past and present was a powerful departure from the vicious cycle her life had been. The hand in hers was the love that had taught her to breathe again.


Wow! What a story!


Sloane Bradley is trapped and emotionally broken by a past tragedy. She had her life in order, a very controlled order, and she likes it that way.


Graham Cooper Jr. ran from his past, trading one destructive habit for workaholic. But as his new restaurant nears opening, his passion for cooking sizzles—and for a certain food and promotion blogger.


Both determined that they’re the last thing the other needs, Sloane and Cooper resist the attraction that simmers between them. But will their pasts put a sweet future in deep freeze? Or can they discard expired emotions and stir up a new recipe for happiness?



Ms. Tomlinson’s dialogue sparkles, her writing jumps off the page pulling the reader right in. Emotions are real, and raw, and I could taste the pain and longing. I felt the taunting burn of a past that won’t leave them alone, and the anticipation of hope that maybe the tragedies have reached their expiration date. I felt the need to hang onto the familiar and the longing to taste something new. Ms. Tomlinson has a secret recipe for story telling and it makes a delightful dish.



I purchased this book on Amazon. I offer my review of my own free will, and the opinions expressed in my review are my own honest thoughts and reaction to this book.




#Blogwords, Tuesday Reviews-Day, #TRD, New Release Event, With No Reservations, Laurie Tomlinson

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Tara McDermott needed a job, so she took the only thing available—cleaning house for the swoon-worthy actor, and Hollywood Bad Boy, Rick Shade. When he comes up with a crazy plan to tame his wild reputation by marrying her, she reluctantly agrees so she can pay off her debts and move her daughter back to the Midwest where life is simpler. If only he wouldn’t make her heart pound every time he kisses her.

Rick’s reputation is in the toilet and it’s affecting his job. In order to get a good role, he needs to show Hollywood he’s now a family man. After enticing Tara with a large sum of money to go through with the farce, he sets out to show the public he’s in love. But Tara’s soft lips keep calling to him and soon he doesn’t know what’s pretend and what’s real.


Acting Married is a sweet romance.


She wanted to say something about Rick and his own relationship issues, but Tara stuffed the words down her throat. She didn’t want to get into another fight with him. She gazed out over the ocean and forced herself to calm down. It wasn’t a good idea to overreact. That only lead to embarrassment.

Rick sighed. “I’m sorry. I stuck my nose where it shouldn’t have been. If you don’t want to go visit your parents, I’ll call Phil back and tell him it’s off.”

“No,” she said, touching his arm. “It’s okay. Maybe we could go see them.”

He slid his arm around her and pulled her to his chest. “I won’t let him hurt you again,” he whispered, then he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

She snuggled into him, ignoring the little voice telling her not to get so close to Rick Shade. “I know,” she said, her voice barely audible. Rick would do everything in his power to protect her and Kylee.

He wrapped both arms around her and she could smell his scent. A tiny hint of cologne mixed with a smell that was unique to Rick. Her heart beat faster.

He pulled back from her. “You know, if we were really married, I’d kiss you right now.” His voice sounded raspy.

She looked up at him. “We are really married. I saw the paperwork.”

His gaze dropped to her lips. “Then I guess I have to.”

“Probably wouldn’t be right if you didn’t.”

He leaned closer, stopping only a breath away from her lips. “I hope those onions I ate earlier don’t ruin the kiss.”

“I’ll let you know if your breath is hideous by making little choking noises as we kiss.”

His lips twitched. “Thanks,” he said before he closed the gap. His soft lips teased hers, and she closed her eyes. His hand reached around her neck, pulling her closer, his thumb caressing her cheek. The kiss deepened and she lost all thought about what he’d eaten for lunch. Her skin tingled with his touch. She could easily melt into the sand and die a happy person.

“What are you doing, Mommy?” Kylee came bounding up to them, spraying sand on Tara’s legs. She reluctantly pulled back.

“Kylee! Come here!” Amanda ran up to Kylee and picked her up. “I’m sorry, she got away from me.”

Tara felt a blush creep up to her cheeks. “It’s fine.”

“Look at this!” Kylee said, holding up a seashell. Part of it had broken, revealing the intricate spiral on the inside.

Rick examined it. “That’s awesome.”

“Great find,” Tara said, putting her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun.

“Let’s go look for more treasures,” Amanda said, holding out her hand. Kylee ran to her.

Rick turned toward Tara. “Where were we?”

Unfortunately, reality had set in and the moment was gone. She shouldn’t be kissing Rick, not when their relationship had an expiration date. She needed to remember that even though the marriage certificate was real, what they had was fake.

“I was just about to tell you to keep it light on the onions next time.”

His smile vanished. “Seriously?” He cupped his hand in front of his mouth and huffed into it, then sniffed.

Guilt made her stomach clench. The look on his face made it worse. He grimaced, like he’d just had one of his most embarrassing moments. She couldn’t let him continue to think he had onion breath.

She laughed, trying to keep it light. “I’m just kidding.”

His mouth dropped open and he poked her in the side. “I’m going to get you good for that one.”

Before she knew it, he was on top of her, his knees straddling her sides, his fingers tickling under her ribs. She fell back against the sand and laughed, squirming to get away, but she couldn’t. His fingers skimmed over her skin, making her laugh so hard she could barely breathe.

“Tickle me next!” Kylee said.

Rick finally relented, climbing off her and going after Kylee. Her daughter screamed and laughed as he chased her in the sand. Anyone watching would have thought he was her father. The thought made her blink back tears.

This, too, would end.

Victorine enjoys commercial success through her writing, thanks in part to her ability to analyze and adapt to the constantly changing trends in today’s publishing environment. She self-published her first book, Not What She Seems, in April of 2010. In March of 2011, Not What She Seems began its 6 week run on The New York Times best selling eBook list. By May 2011 she had sold over 100,000 copies. Victorine’s first romantic comedy novel, Accidentally Married, hit the USA Today Best selling books list in January 2015. Victorine is a graphic designer as well, and can be hired for book cover design.






He pulled up his social media accounts on the computer and tapped the desk with his index finger. What should he post that would hint at things to come?


If this were a Jane Austin movie, there’d be a lot of swooning going on. She reminded herself that putting a suit on a pig didn’t make it a man.


Kylee patted his arm. “The trees are tired today.”

He looked out the window. “What?”

“Theyr’re tired. See? They aren’t flapping today.”

Rick wasn’t sure what she meant. “Flapping?”

“The leaves were flapping yesterday, making wind. But they need to rest today. They worked hard yesterday.”


Desperate times call for desperate measures.


Tara McDermott thought taking a job as a maid was desperate. After her failed marriage to one aspiring actor the last thing she wanted was to be in the employ of another actor. Even if he was a big-time star.


Rick Shade has a reputation he needs to clean up for the press. And when his new maid spills coffee on him, he takes his agents crazy idea and runs with it. And Tara would give anything to just be the maid again.


Problem is, they may be pretending but the feelings are real. Problem is, neither of them realizes the other one feels the same way.



Ms. Lieske has once again taken an absurd notion and turned it into a delightful romance. Her characters have depth and conflict even as they try to run from their own feelings. They pull into their false romance, just to the brink of dropping all pretense, then like the tide, they rush away again. His story stirs conflict as it abrades against hers. Will they erode away all pretense? Or will they erode away any chance of love?



I received a free copy of this book, but was under no obligation to read the book or to post a review. I offer my review of my own free will. The opinions expressed in my review are my honest thoughts and reaction to this book.



#Blogwords, Tuesday Reviews-Day, #TRD, New Release Event, Acting Married, Victorine Lieske


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*This is a romantic comedy with a Christian worldview.

Allegra Spencer has been living a careful life. Her safe job as an accountant is bookended by going to church and the gym. Okay, sometimes the gym. Fine. She goes to church. And the coffee shop. She avoids risk at all cost, preferring to stay safe in her cozy condo. Until her accounting firm goes belly up and she’s out of a job.

Tyler Hawk had a glorious career as a star NFL tight end. He retired on a high note and now lives a second dream of owning his own business and leading others on extreme outdoor adventures. But he needs help with his books—and his heart. When Allegra takes the job, sparks fly.

It’s a case of safety zone versus danger zone, and in their minds, never the two shall meet.


“Here’s your caramel macchiato, Allegra.”

She watched as Jael slid the cup into a sleeve. Allegra wrapped her hand around it, proud of herself for taking a step outside her comfort zone from her regular Kit Kat latté. She turned…


“My coffee!” Did she really just yell for her coffee, more worried about it than the man she’d known was close behind her?

Something was wrong with her.

She snorted. No. She just loved her coffee. Though the man currently gripping her upper arms in his strong hands…

“I…” The words died on her lips as she peered up into lush green eyes gazing down at her. “Sorry,” she squeaked.

The man looked down at her hand, still holding tight to her latté. “No harm done. Looks like the barista put the lid on tight.”

Allegra glanced over her shoulder at Jael, who was standing behind the counter watching them with a grin on her face.

“You’re welcome.” Jael lifted a brow, tilting her head to the man.

Allegra rolled her eyes. Though if it meant the guy talking to her, she’d have to remember to slide Jael a big tip.

A very big tip.


MIKAL:   Thank you so much for having me, Robin!! ❤

rem:   Hullo, Mikal, I’m so happy to have you here today. If you could live anywhere in any time period, where would you go?

MIKAL:   Oh, that is such a hard question! If I knew I would be safe and it would be as romantic as Tamara Leigh makes it sound, I would so go back to the medieval period. As long as I got to be nobility, that is. If not the medieval time, then for sure the Regency period. As long as I got to be nobility. I was meant to live in a castle. I just know it.

rem:   I’m right there with ya, girlfriend. Where did you find this story idea?

MIKAL:   I was in a course and part of the assignment was to write a sentence for each part of a story. We were given a character name (which has since changed), and I thought I’d read that the character was an accountant (I’ve since gone back and can’t find that). I wrote a few sentences for the assignment and had a couple of people email me and say they’d like to read that story. And here we are!

rem:   Story ideas truly are anywhere and everywhere. Who was the easiest character to write and why? The most difficult?

MIKAL:   Oh man. The easiest character by far was Allegra. She is so much like me, it’s scary. LOL! From the coffee to the klutz. Yeah. Me. The most difficult character to write was definitely Tyler. Probably because I’m not a man, so had a hard time making sure he was a man with male thoughts, speech, and actions. I’m so thankful for excellent critique partners!

rem:   Methinks, perhaps that’s the hardest to write for all of us—characters of the opposite gender. What do you munch on while you’re writing / researching / editing?

MIKAL:   You mean, what’s beside me right at this very moment? LOL! Coffee. And strawberry Australian licorice. Oh wow, I love that stuff. I also chow down on pita chips and hummus. And red Starbursts. Not all at the same time, of course.

rem:   Yay to coffee, gick to licorice (or any kind) and yay to red Starbusts. What do you do to recover once you’ve typed “THE END?”

MIKAL:   Can I admit that I cry? Because I do. I cry. Writing is such an emotional roller coaster that it’s a relief when it’s finished. Months of research, work, dreaming, and strained wrists and fingertips culminate in another dream coming true. After that, my husband takes us all out for dinner and we celebrate mum’s return to humanity! 😊

rem:   At least until you stumble down another story hole… Mikal congrats on an amazing book! Thanks for being on the blog today!


Mikal Dawn is an inspirational romance author, wedding enthusiast and proud military wife. By day she works for an international sports ministry, and by night she mutters to imaginary friends, performs sketchy Google searches, and procrastinates (like any good writer!). When she isn’t writing about faith, fun, and forever, she is obsessively scouring Pinterest (with coffee in hand, of course!) for wedding ideas for her characters.

Born and raised just outside of Vancouver, Canada, Mikal lived throughout the southern United States, before moving to Nebraska (and loving it!) with her husband, three kids, and one ferocious feline.


  • “They were oil and vinegar, chocolate and green beans…Seahawks and 49ers.”
  • “It was time for a change. The evening air carried the scent of Seattle. The faint brine from the ocean mixed with exhaust and a spring shower. Change. The city was always changing, so why not her?”
  • “Thank You, Jesus, for whomever discovered the coffee bean could be ground into such sustaining energy.”
  • Could the floor actually open up and swallow her whole? That would be preferable to standing there, facing her new employer after hitting him.
  • Back off. BACK OFF! Red lights flashed in Tyler’s mind. If the robot from Lost in Space were there, he’d be repeating, “Warning, warning. Danger” in all his theatrical glory.
  • She was wound up tighter than the Ace bandages his sports therapist had wrapped Tyler’s ankle in before games. And that had left his toes blue.
  • He wanted her to experience the confidence that pushing through fear could bring.
  • “You’re missing out on life, Allie. ‘There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God.’ Straight from the Bible, dear sister. Mic drop.”
  • Tyler grasped her hand—only to have the touch sting and exhilarate him like he’d just caught a twenty-yard driveline pass.
  • Cracks of weakness were breaking open, and he didn’t like it. Allegra tore through every wall he’d built up over the years…


  1. Count Me In was originally titled Catch Me until a writing contest. Two of the three judges mentioned the title wouldn’t grab them or make them pick the book up. It turned out to be for the best, because the other two books in this series have fallen into place so nicely and will look great alongside Count Me In!
  2. One day in church, I met a younger woman and I’m pretty sure my eyes popped out of my head. She looked exactly like Allegra! So much so, I almost freaked out. Once I got to know her a little, I had intended to hire a photographer and use this woman as Allegra for a cover shoot. Unfortunately, it just couldn’t work out (I put all my money into editing, so didn’t have much left over to pay for the photography shoot). It turned out well, though! I ended up designing the cover myself, and I’m thrilled with it. It’s different from most other covers, which made me nervous, but so far it’s been well-received!
  3. The Kit Kat lattés talked about in the book are, in fact, real. I make them here at home and I looooove them.
  4. If you’re involved in the Christian blogging/publishing industry, even as fans, you might recognize a few names in Count Me In. Especially the accounting firm in the last quarter of the book. 😉 (rem: yes, I did notice that)
  5. I indie-published this book, but did so by creating my own publishing company, 121 Publishing House. 121 is for Psalm 121: “I lift my eyes up to the heavens; where does my help come from?” It’s my mum’s favorite, and I wanted to honor her somehow. This felt right.
  6. Tyler Hawk, Allegra’s hero, is a former Seattle Seahawk. That would be because I’m a HUGE Seahawks fan!!
  7. When I write, it needs to be utterly silent. If my family is home, or I’m out in public at a coffeeshop, I wear ear plugs. Yes. Ear plugs. I need to drown out the noise so I can better concentrate. I get distracted waaaay too easily.
  8. I do have a writing companion: my cat, Leo, gets comfortable laying across my legs when I’m on the couch with my computer on my lap. He’s fluffy (a silver, long-haired Siberian), and by “fluffy,” I mean both in fur and weight. Ha!
  9. For research, I used YouTube quite a bit for the adventure scenes. I love using it to get a feel for the action and what (and how) things are seen, but also for the audible picture, such as what would the wind sound like when parasailing? Would I hear birds above the rush of white waters when rafting? All that fun stuff.
  10. The next book in this collection is focusing on Bo and Story. I can’t wait to share their history with you all! (rem: i KNEW it!!!)


OH | MY | GOODNESS!! Such a fun story!


When control freak Allegra Spencer meets out of control Tyler Hawk, both their safety nets begin to unravel.


Thread by thread and layer by layer, the fear that has snugged her safe and sound. Till that one thread snagged loose. And like any web, the harder she tries to stay safe in its embrace, the more it sloughs away.


Tyler Hawk, however, ripped through every safety net his parents tried to wrap him up in. He broke records, he achieved the unachievable, he proved them wrong. Over and over.

So what was he still running from?



Ms. Dawn brings two forces together—unmovable meets the unstoppable—and wraps a sweet and funny story around it. Her dialogue absolutely sparkles, and character emotions run the gamut. I wanted to kick Allegra in the shins even as I felt her fears; I wanted to knock some sense into Tyler’s hard head as he did what he thought she needed—push her out of her safety shell. My heart broke every time they danced close to the flame… and then away again.

Well done, Ms. Dawn, on a stellar debut novel. I’m looking forward to your sophomore story.



I purchased this book on Amazon. I offer my review of my own free will, and the opinions expressed in my review are my own honest thoughts and reaction to this book.




#Blogwords, Tuesday Reviews-Day, #TRD, New Release Event, Count Me In, Mikal Dawn

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